


Restful, Cared for

by SusanaR



Series: Desperate Hours Alternative Universe G version (DH AU G) [14]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Banter, Caretaking, Exhaustion, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:21:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/SusanaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it feels like the burdens weighing on Faramir are too much. Other times he has help, even though he didn't look for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restful, Cared for

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime in later 3019, before anyone knows that Faramir is Aragorn's son, when they're still getting to know eachother a bit.

He was aching, and tired. The morning's arms practice had left him with pains in places he hadn't even known he had. The afternoon meetings had worn on his spirit more even than had the unaccustomedly fierce sparring worn on his body. 

Scrolls and books lay heavy in his arms. To such an extent that Faramir wasn't even exactly sure how he would get back to his rooms. But if he did, he could lie in his bed, and read, so that he could know what he would have to say tomorrow. It wasn't as if the councilors on the agricultural staples sub-council would be any more prepared than he, may Eru bedevil them all equally for that failure. 

Suddenly, his burden was not so heavy anymore, because it was not his. Faramir blinked, too baffled to object at first. "Lord Elladan?" He asked, "I beg your pardon...I must needs review those 'ere the morrow." 

"No, Faramir, I really don't think so." The King disagreed, picking up his tired Steward as if Faramir himself were no more burden than might a half-grown child be. Settled carefully over the King's shoulders, Faramir was too stunned to do anything for a good two minutes. And by then, Aragorn was dropping him down gently on a bed he didn't recognize, somewhere in the King's House, and sending Elladan and the time-sensitive scrolls away. 

"I have to work...!" Faramir objected, fierce yet tired, so tired, and awfully baffled as well. 

"Shhh." Said Aragorn, carefully laying Faramir down onto his stomach. "I need you to hold still." 

Faramir did, not sure what else he should do, or what else he could say to better explain what he needed to be doing to his King, who really needed Faramir to do these things because Aragorn's pre-council preparation still left something to be desired...

Then Faramir signed in unexpected and profound relief, as Aragorn's clever hands applied pressure and healing lotion to exactly the parts of Faramir's body which had needed them. Faramir couldn't help it....between the safety of his King's presence and the comfort brought by his tender ministrations, he was going to fall into a deep, restful sleep. 

Aragorn must have realized the same. He chuckled fondly, "There, my dear, stubborn Steward. Is it not better to let us take care of you, rather than you defying me until I must needs find you and scold you to enforce my will? It takes much longer, that way, to get you to the point where you are calm and comforted." 

"Not as calm as this." Faramir pointed out, more than half asleep, "Your arguments make my head ache." 

Aragorn chuckled again, "Aye, but your tender head does nothing to stop you falling asleep, you foolishly dedicated man. Gondor can take care of herself for a night and a day. I rescheduled the granary meetings for next week. You can have books and scrolls sent to you tomorrow mid-morning. You can join the Queen for lunch and chess in the garden, and myself and our company for dinner. Eru help you if you try to do anything else, my Faramir. If you defy me, I promise," Aragorn enforced that word with a firm look, "You will find your period of rest extended. Do you understand?" 

Faramir feigned sleep. It wasn't difficult. 

Aragorn good-humoredly huffed a sigh, "Fine, dear difficult one, be that way." He bent down and brushed a fatherly kiss onto the brow of the "sleeping" Faramir. "We both know that you understand me. You don't have much experience with letting someone take care of you, but we love you, and I think that you shall learn." 

With a last gentle pat to the Steward's 'sleeping' form, the King left the room. Faramir was already asleep by then, safe and warm and, more or less, relieved of immediate worries.


End file.
